Deception
by Miliazer
Summary: There were no chains that held me down, I knew. I could very well get up and hit him if I wanted, I knew. Rated M for violence. UKUS/USUK. One-shot.


Disclaimer : I do not, and never will own Hetalia. Even though I really want to.

Author's Note : I actually had a lot of fun writing this even though both of them were so OOC. I hope it was okay though. It was just an inspiration burst that I actually woke up from in my sleep. Currently 8:34 a.m. for me. I went to bed at almost 3 a.m. since I was reading a book.

Fan-fiction's Note : This occurs after Seven Years' War and before the Revolutionary War.

Warning(s) : Rated R for violence. Delusional Arthur and Alfred. OOC-ness. This is also my first Hetalia fan-fiction. It is also written in Alfred's point of view.

**

"You will listen to me!" he bellowed, lashing his whip against my back. There, I could feel the skin tearing and fresh blood oozing. If I concentrated hard enough, I could hear the red splash against the floor, in this cold, empty dungeon, after it ran down my sides. Drip, drip, drip. Splash! More of the hot, sticky liquid escaped its meaty prison and kissed the ground.

"You will never defy me!" he cried, striking me across the face. I felt the sides of my lips curl upwards. I mean, what else could I do? Were I to whimper, let alone make a sound, he would savor every ounce of agony that seeped out of me.

There were no chains that held me down, I knew. I could very well get up and hit him if I wanted, I knew. ...but. This was our game of deception. In here, he was my master, he owned me. In here, pain was not pain but bliss like a mother holding her babe to her teat. The one who first snapped out of this make-believe reality was the one that lost. For it was this illusion that kept us alive, kept us from our insanity.

My beloved, sick, twisted master was, what he called himself, a high-born. A shock of almost platinum blond hair, messy though incredibly sexy, caressed his head and he had the most exquisite green eyes, along with thick eyebrows that only further enhanced the beauty of his eyes, which any maiden would die for. His features flaunted who he was. He reigned as the world's dominant colonial power. He was crowned with the name, Arthur Kirkland.

He called me a high-born too, though there was nothing interesting about me. I had dirty blond hair that stuck out at an odd place, sapphire blue eyes that were nothing compared to Arthur's amazing ones. Yet, I was a slave to him. It was not chosen by the gods, or anyone else. Just the two of us, Arthur and I, Alfred F. Jones.

Ah, yes. Our game of deception. For that day, it all started just because I said, out of the blue, "Hey, what if I wanted independence?" It led into a quarrel, then a fight, then this.

I stood up, after he kicked me hard in the ribs. It did not hurt, it never will as long as one played this game without losing any faith in this sweet delusional world. He stared at me as if it was not right of me to stand. I knew he was angry from the way his nostrils flared. Then again, I was stronger than him. I feared nothing of him.

So I slammed him against the wall, and knew that I had knocked the air out of him from the way he heaved just a split second later. I crushed my lips against his. He shut his eyes tightly, as if he was afraid to know that it was my lips that were against his. It seemed forceful at first, but later he submitted into the kiss. Our tongues fought a battle of their own, a battle of dominance. They slid over each other, inter-twined and tried to force each of themselves back into their own mouths.

The kiss soon broke, curse the need of oxygen that humans had.

"I love you." I whispered the three forbidden words into his ears as I lightly ran my hands over his back. The three forbidden words that started it all, the game, the torture, the rough kisses, the late night visits and many others.

"I love you, too..." he mumbled, but there were tears on his face. It was the first time he said it. So did he really mean it? In this game of deception, there was no truth or lies. Only make-belief. No need for the tears if he was lying.

So who's telling the truth and playing at the lies now?

**

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